Pester
by carrot-fries
Summary: Quinn wants peace and quiet, and other things. Rachel wants to find out what those other things are. G!P


**AN: This one's for Luca. *Hops back in the DeLorean***

* * *

"Tell me something good."

"Tell me that you love me?" Quinn sang automatically, giggling when Rachel rolled up the crossword she'd been doing and swatted her with it.

"Quinn. Please. We never really talk anymore."

"We get little or no alone time as it is. You want to waste it talking?"

Sue, Santana, Showchoir . The c-block (conversation blocking) trifecta ensured that they hardly ever got a moment alone.

Quinn's smirk was already half way to her ears as she leaned in when her abusive girlfriend swatted her again."Don't start. I'm being serious here. I can almost feel the rift growing between me and that big, beautiful, pensive brain of yours."

"Gee, thank god egos can't get stiffies." Quinn pouted a little at being turned down.

"Quinn Fabray!"

"That is indeed my name." Quinn slipping her tongue between her teeth and grinning again. She was in a playful mood. Blame it on the weather and what not.

"Humor me this instant or I'll drop your spirit stick, or do something equally offensive to the delicate, woefully superstitious sensibilities of cheerleaders." Rachel folded her arms and frowned, all but stamping her foot from her position on her back. Brat.

"Ignoring the completely esoteric movie reference that's waay above my pay grade— there was something dirty in that, right?"Quinn asked, smiling peevishly as she twirled the dandelion seed she'd caught walking over to the Berry's house.

She'd been walking everywhere these days. Plus, she'd been recycling this and composting that; going green as per Rachel's request. Going pussywhipped, according to Santana.

"Start sharing or start spending our secret sleepovers on the couch," Rachel threatened (whined) when three entire seconds of silence went by.

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. "So help me out then. Some direction would be nice," she said, swaying her knee until it knocked Rachel's over. She was always going to be Rachel's little fool.

"I'm going to close my eyes and you're going to take me on a trip, a fantasy vacation of your choosing," Rachel said, doing exactly that and then peeping at Quinn impatiently through on eye. "My therapist says this exercise will do wonders for our communication."

_Bad move._

"Stop taking relationship advice from your manicurist—yeah I found out about that," Quinn said glaring back.

"How did y—daddy!" Rachel shrieked, suddenly wide-eyed and very alert.

"Yeah, he put me out of my misery after he got wind of your latest cat calendar update."

Last Friday when Hiram and Quinn were trading horror stories about their significant others while waiting for Rachel to come home from her weekly appointment, he accidentally on purpose let it slip that Dr. Cynthia Lipschitz had received her certification from the Ohio School of Cosmetology. Hiram finally let the cat out the bag after Quinn made it known that her girlfriend planned on preparing a series of zoo themed calendars to span over the next ten years, based on their talks in the last session.

Rachel had primly handed Quinn a first draft the same day and it included such treats as: one wiggles concert a year, indefinitely; and something equally terrifying, yet not clearly defined, called 'tea cosy we cozy wednesdays'. Karma was really going up her ass for this one.

She'd kept that little bit of information Hiram shared close to her heart, for vengeful purposes. Duly noting how Leroy—her supposed best bud in the house— had been the one to drive Rachel to those very important therapy sessions. He'd spoken highly of this therapist with a smugness that Quinn wasn't able to place before now.

Quinn had let Rachel and her therapist run amuck, while suffering in silence because it'd had been her special brand of schoolyard bully with a crush that had driven Rachel to such means.

She was secretly pleased at the ruse. No real shrink meant noone had been broken , right?

There was also a silver-lining to this, and it was simply that the statute of limitations had run out on Rachel's impending guilt trip because she'd been in _therapy_ for the past two years.

She'd settle up with Leroy soon enough for his part in all of this. Oh, he'd fucking pay; he'd pay in spades. Those five hundred dollar his and his accordion lessons that Hiram was still undecided about…guess whose uncle will do it for four? Happy Anniversary, Lee.

"That might be the case but her advice has proven invaluable," Rachel said after a long guilty pause that she'd used to regain her composure and a foothold on the conversation.

"Her advice has proven you're a sap and she's a quack," Quinn answered easily, raising up onto her elbows.

Rachel huffed, and sat up primly. Her hands were already balled into fists.

"I'll have you know, her boyfriend is finishing his third year majoring in psychology at—"

"Oh, so Quack on Quack action?" Quinn said, more concerned with the faded cheerio induced scars on her legs. She almost felt bad for Rachel— then again, _two years_.

"Quinn, for heaven's sake. Show some respect; it was Cynthia who first noticed your repressed feelings."

"Yeah, no. That would be Brittany in the third grade. And it's funny because she loves ducks. Quack!" Quinn was decidedly getting more and more obnoxious.

"Quinn!"

She quacked some more...very authentically. Apparently that and Fran Drescher impersonations were her special special gifts from God.

"Quinn tone down. The neighbors will sue." Rachel's eyes widened as Quinn made a show of inhaling deeply "Alright! Okay! She's a quack. You win."

"I'm good at that," Quinn said breathily.

Rachel calmly laid back on the grass and closed her eye before speaking. "You're still taking me on the fantasy trip, now more than ever. You've sufficiently stressed me out enough for one day and I think it'd be a well deserved mental vacation."

"Ha! When pigs—"

"I'll tell dad what really happened to his precious, ugly as sin Melvin Beagle hand painted ceramic bowl," Rachel sounded so chipper sweet that it took Quinn a full thirty seconds to see how she'd played right into the ruthless little snit's hand.

Quinn frowned and stared. Her momentary victory lay in pieces on the lawn just like that stupid fucking bowl the basement. She'd never be able to do a proper hand stand and she'd always suffer for it.

She flopped back down in the grass, wondering if everyone got little urges to strangle their cute little girlfriends. And if so, was thirty-nine times a day the normal average?

She sighed and continued playing with the seed before finally letting it go, watching as a gentle breeze carried it away. She pictured that same seed floating unnoticeably into Rachel's imagination; into whatever scene she would inevitably create for her.

Rachel fidgeted and wiggled until she could rest her head against Quinn's shoulder. It wasn't adorable. She should get swatted right on her soon to be insured nose, Quinn thought as she plucked a leaf out of midair before it landed on Rachel's face.

"Take a deep breath, Rae, and picture me standing on your doorstep on a warm mid-July morning. I know your daddy is in a good mood because Madonna is playing loud enough to embarrass Leroy; plus, his begonias are in full bloom, and they've been recently watered. You come out to greet me and your eyes light up when you see I'm wearing a fanny pack stuffed with lsd and—oof! Ow. Rae, they might look like it, but these abs aren't made of steel. Is all this abuse really necessary?" Quinn's laughter came out between pained coughs and moans.

Rachel was already pouting and squinting at her so Quinn picked up her story again. "Okay it's a sunday, it has to be , because it's the only day in summer my frizz is under control and I don't look like Sam's stunt double. You're wearing that infernal Rangers jersey, because your dad is still convinced that it's a chastity shirt."

"Quinn, I think you're going off on a tangent"

"Shh. Don't butt in."

Rachel didn't even wait a half a beat before butting in. "Quinn, while I'm familiar with the concept of setting the pace, and I'm the absolute last person to question commitment to detail, but—" she trailed off, obviously questioning Quinn's commitment to detail.

"Woman, must you—" Quinn sighed it was much easier to just give in "Well if you must know, I couldn't exactly ask your dads permission to take you on a one to two week road trip looking like some ragamuffin roadie for blink 182. It wouldn't help my situation if the weather was crap and I'm this close to conducting a study to show the correlation between state of those begonias and Hiram's mood; plus, if Leroy thinks his lack of sporting integrity deters my libido then I say we should actively encourage it."

Rachel just hummed and chuckled in agreement.

"Say ragamuffin more often, daily if possible," she said stretching her arms above her head until little popping sounds were heard. " On a side note it does bother me that the estimated time frame for our vacation is so vague. Bad things can, and will most likely, happen with loose schedules.."

Was she serious?

"Okay!" Quinn sighed heavily. "So after I get permission to take you on a 13 day 6 hour and 43 minute, give or take a few microseconds, vacation— happy now?"

"Certainly," Rachel said ignoring the sarcasm "I'll always appreciate anally retentive attention to detail. You may now whisk me away in your little beetle."

Quinn frowned.

"Absolutely not. We aren't leaving the state in barbie's dream house shopping car—not even hypothetically. See, we'd go out in style: '71 barracuda convertible; glossy yellow paint job; forward tilting hood scoop; black interior; walnut shifter handle—sorry." Quinn cut herself short, reddening slightly when she noticed her girlfriend's puzzled gaze.

Rachel smiled and then tilted her head so she could kiss Quinn on the cheek. "When did you become a car nut?"

"I don't think I am, but—well, every Ohian has wet dreams about the Ohio state limits in a rearview mirror. I just think it'd be damn near orgasmic red lining a 'cuda in 5th gear straight out of town with you in the passenger seat."

"I can see the appeal in that as well."

"Right, so it's sundress season and you're in top form, bare feet propped up on my dash—"

"Top form? Do I have and walnut shifter and a glossy paint job as well?" Rachel asked, wryly

"Keep making jokes, and keep cutting me off, please do. Just remember, you're not the only one who can banish folk to the sofa," Quinn said, darkly.

Rachel was silent for a whole three seconds before she made a rather unflattering raspberry sound and then busted out laughing. "Next time you say something that preposterous, make sure i'm drinking orange juice. I've always wanted to do a genuine spit take."

Quinn pouted and muttered, "Shut up man hands." Which only made Rachel laugh more raucously.

"Laugh it up. Just remember if Bumble Bee gets a flat, you're changing her."

Rachel's eyes widened considerably and Quinn realized her blunder "You named the car? More importantly, you name the car B_umble Bee_! Just how much thought—I don't even care, I love this." She was actually kicking her feet in the air and Quinn cringed when the akakak started.

"She's black and yellow, what should I have named her? Wiz Khalifa? Stop laughing so much, you hypocrite. Now I wish I hadn't stepped in when you wanted to release the entire collection of ballads you wrote to your head band. People should totally know about _Julie my scrunchie_" Quinn said, feeling more and more embarrassed.

"Don't get all huffy. I think it's sweet. I've never seen this side of you," Rachel said, rubbing her girlfriend's stomach. Quinn felt her shoulders climb down accordingly.

She didn't bother sniping that she forgot to say I'm not laughing with you, I'm laughing at you, because Rachel was doing such a good job. If she kept it up, purring might actually take place and wouldn't that be the ultimate shame.

"Stop it," Quinn moaned, mere seconds from twitching her leg, but it was too late because Rachel's hand had slipped under her t-shirt; the one with Jack Daniels label graphic that she'd gotten Quinn. Yeah every wanna be badass and their mother owned one, but she still wore it proudly( after she'd ripped off the sleeves, of course).

Quinn tried her best (she really did) to swat away the little pest intent of rubbing her down, but the little paws just kept getting more and more aggressive until they were having and all out tickle war.

…

After no one was declared the official winner, Rachel decided she'd feel more comfortable laying back to front against Quinn's chest.

Chestnut curls tickled Quinn's nose but she didn't bother trying to move the offending locks. That was because she'd spent weeks trying to convince her girlfriend that she didn't in fact look like Joe's Rastafarian church sister (which Quinn didn't think was a bad thing in any case) and it actually looked really good curly. It was a small victory that Rachel decided to wear it like that while they were home.

Quinn smiled, inhaled Rachel's coconut shampoo and squeezed her a little.

"Quinn."

"Mm?"

"I'd like to hear more about our road-trip, if it pleases the court."

"The court doesn't feel like being mocked anymore."

"I'll behave. Scout's honor," Rachel said pulling Quinn's long fingers to her lips and kissing them.

Quinn was starting to feel like she'd get a reputation for being easy if this kept up. She rolled her eyes, sighed (almost defeatedly) and said, "No. Okay?"

"Yes. Okay?" Rachel was still kissing her fingers and nibbling on them a little.

Quinn knew she'd lost before it even started. She sighed again.

"Well, even though there's definitely a destination in mind, it's not really about that."

She'd already started biting her lips because she wasn't sure how she'd explain it(or maybe she knew exactly what she wanted to say, but the old Fabray modus operandi prevented her from spilling her guts unless her wrist was being twisted).

"Okay so it's the means and not the end. Where are some of the places?" Rachel asked softly as finally entwining their fingers, and resting them on her belly.

"And, what, run the risk of you presenting side by side comparisons of tourist traps for the next 6 hours? No thank you."

"I can't believe I'm saying this—" Rachel sighed as if she was about to do something more painful than burning playbills. "tell me in non specific terms what our trip would entail."

"Non-specific?" Quinn asked, warily stretching out the words. "And you won't interrupt no matter how painful it gets."

"Well—I mean yes. Certainly, I promise." Rachel almost twitched.

"A bed and breakfast. That'd be the first thing on the list."

"Oh! Sounds lovely."

"Strike one." Quinn grumbled, and then Rachel made a show of audibly slipping her lips closed and locking it. Quinn really wanted to swallow that key.

She smiled darkly from behind her girlfriend and continued.

"I don't plan on checking references—or booking ahead. We'll find it purely on happenstance— maybe at night. I'd make everything ten times more exciting, don't you think? " Quinn paused intermittently to check her girlfriend's reaction. She smiled when she'd made it to the end without so much as a peep.

"Rae, you still alive? Too much? Hello. Kreshawn is the new Babs."

When she didn't receive an answer she poked a tan cheek and made a clicking sound.

"Must you be cruel?"

"Ok, you passed the test. I won't put you through that. But B&Bs are a must and I guarantee that they'd be painstakingly chosen, peer reviewed and in accordance with building codes etcetera."

"Thank you."

"I'm warning you, this isn't going to sound very… grand," Quinn said, itching behind her ear as she mentally traced a path connecting each spot where light peaked through the leaves in the willow oak tree above them. She was glad that Rachel was so close, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to let her voice carry over her slowly mounting insecurities.

"I'll decide that. Go on." Rachel coaxed.

"Someday I'll take you on that European vacation you've been driving your dads nuts about. The whole deal Rach. Wine tasting in Bordeaux ; tours of the stunning countryside and capital; we'll sit in theatre houses and marvel because such and such performed there. I promise. So… umm… don't go thinking this tame little idea is the best I have to offer." Quinn barely managed to say without tripping all over her words. She wondered when this became so serious.

"No more preemptive apologies. All your dreams are important to me, big or small. The small ones are even more precious, because they're intimate and delicate. I wouldn't be anything but honored if you shared them with me," Rachel said, twisting around to stare at Quinn like she wanted to pet her.

Quinn wished deeply that someone would tell her to stop it.

Only Rachel Berry could manage to bring a girl's kicked puppy issues right to the surface using kindness in a way that sorta cut right to the quick.

The thing is Quinn's dad had already gone out of his way to instill in her that a lack of ambition was the ultimate shame, and small dreams were the precursor to that.

So yeah, she was embarrassed.

Before this she'd never skipped on an opportunity to let Rachel know first and foremost that she too had been reaching for city lights and bronzed accolades almost as long Rachel had been reaching for the spotlights and the EGOT. Because that was a big. Because if her dreams weren't big enough, Finn Hudson's certainly hadn't been, then—

" Fine, fine. Let's not get all—" Quinn cleared her throat as she stared out at the pool and Rachel twisted back around "I just get a kick out of the idea of me and you on open roads; taking the scenic route everywhere; Stopping at farmers' markets just so I can watch you haggle for the sake of haggling; finding that one restaurant that actually caters perfectly to a carnivore and her vegan girlfriend; stumbling into that one antique store were you'd be kindred spirits with other lime green fainting couch enthusiast, while I did quick sketches of the nearly criminally insane in their natural habitat." Rachel elbowed her at that and she laughed; and then they both laughed. "You'd sniff out a theatre group faster than I'll find a rustic book store. And the words underground performer might be used adnauseum wherever we end up. Honestly, I could see me eventually getting over myself enough to let you haul me off to tourist traps. Yeah, so that's it…non-specifically."

She'd carefully left off the part about taking Rachel into open fields for starry night picnics so they could wait for morning to show up. And maybe she'd spend the time in between explaining how Rachel inspired her and frustrated her in equal measure. Maybe her words wouldn't play hide and seek with her mouth for once and she'd say how Rachel would probably end up saving her life just by being a weird little show choir nerd; if she hadn't already.

Quinn that's—" Rachel sort of trailed off , and Quinn suddenly felt that nauseous wave of embarrassment kick at her gut, sort of like what you'd feel immediately after you realized that you've given your girlfriend the equivalent of macaroni art for an anniversary gift.

Fuck.

"Like I said. Not very grand." Quinn felt around beside herself palming little blades of grass and before sinking her fingers into the dirt.

"You're an idiot." Rachel said as she spun around and almost smothered Quinn with a kiss.

"I don't follow." Quinn looked flustered and dazed. She wondered briefly if she should have agreed and maybe help berate herself to get another kiss like that.

"I wouldn't trade that opportunity to do those things with you for a thousand vacations in Paris," Rachel said, planting a big kiss on her cheek before turning back around on top of her makeshift Quinn-bed. Silent and content.

Rachel Berry silent and content. Quinn let it sink in for a little. It was weird yet so satisfying and arguably long overdue.

"Rae?"

"Mhm?"

"Tell Dr. Lipshitz I said hey, next time you see her."

Maybe that quack was onto something after all.


End file.
